


The West Wing Drabble Collection

by zinke



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-24
Updated: 2010-07-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: This is a collection of The West Wing dribbles I've written over the years. Each is meant to b read as it's own story; these are not part of a series.





	1. Eloquence

**Author's Note:**

> Strange, the things that come to you in the shower on a Sunday morning. Those of you who know me are probably sitting there scratching your heads at this one; don't worry, you're not alone. I have never really been a Toby/CJ 'shipper; I'd rather always seen them as sharing a deep friendship. Yet here this little piece is. This is also my first attempt at a 100-worder; wow is writing one of these a lot harder than it looks! 
> 
> Many thanks to caz963 for the speed-beta; I'll have to roast you a chicken (Toby-style of course) to properly show my appreciation!

Darkness covers him like a shroud as he studies the incalculable lonely lights of Manhattan, a tumbler of scotch in hand. He doesn’t need to read it; he knew the words years before seeing the gently curled lettering, elegantly stamped in gold upon the cotton bond. Their prettiness taunts him, made potent by the betrayal he still regrets and commends within the same tempered breath. 

He breathes in the phantom aroma of roast chicken and wonders when it was he fell out of step with the cadence of this life, whether it was himself or his craft that failed him. 

 

*fin.*


	2. Too Old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for my personal LJ’s three-year anniversary call for drabble prompts. coloneljack asked for a West Wing Josh/Donna fic using the prompt ‘glee’.

“Josh, you’re having entirely too much fun with this.”

“I am not.”

“You are too. Don’t you think you’re getting a little old for this?”

“You can’t tell me you don’t think this is funny.”

“…I never said that.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s not fair to Sam.”

“What do you mean? It’s a great picture!”

“It’s over twenty-five years old!”

“And he hasn’t changed a bit.”

“He’s wearing plaid bellbottoms, Josh.”

“So?”

“You can’t use it.”

“I can. And I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Donna…”

“Josh?”

“You don’t still have that picture of me in the Sombrero, do you?”

 

*fin.*


	3. Because

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for my personal LJ’s three-year anniversary call for drabble prompts. chaila asked for a West Wing Toby/CJ fic using the prompt ‘verse’.

Toby wants to explain. 

Not because he believes what he did is wrong, or because he was discovered; but because of her expression when she’d realized – accepted – the truth.

But as much as he wants to, he knows he can’t. Not because his lawyer says so, but because even if he could get near enough for long enough, CJ wouldn’t let him.

So he takes to what he knows best. Putting pen to paper he writes the words he believes he’ll never get to say, slipping them page by scrawl-filled page into his desk drawer as the lonely days pass.

 

*fin.*


	4. Twist of Lime, Coke on the Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the raedbard’s West Wing Comment Ficathon, using the prompt: Toby/CJ, ‘The Jackal’. The story’s title comes from a line in ‘The Jackal’ originally sung by Ronnie Jordan.

With Mendoza’s confirmation now firmly behind him, Toby can admit – if only to himself – that he feels good; better than he has in months. Accomplished. Proud. 

And maybe just a little bit smug.

The Press Room is bubbling with the sounds of celebration, of faith restored after months of misfortune and disappointment. Leaning unobtrusively against the wall with a cigar in one hand and a tumbler of single malt in the other, Toby breathes deep and takes it all in, savoring the assault on his over-tired senses.

Someone turns up the stereo and his chest begins to vibrate in time with the slow, heavy base beat of an all too familiar song. He’s pushing his way forward through the gathering crowd before he realizes it, heart thumping in time with the music as he finally catches sight of her, grinning and embarrassed in the center of the crowd. 

To those that don’t know CJ well, her brief display of self-consciousness must seem out of place. 

Toby isn’t one of those people.

Grinning around the end of his cigar, Toby closes his eyes and savors the low burr of her voice. Even the cold dose of reality Josh comes babbling to him about isn’t enough to dampen his spirits tonight.

Not with Mendoza safely seated on the bench, a perfectly aged glass of Glenlivet in his hand, and CJ singing along to ‘The Jackal’. For him. 

She only does it on what she deems to be ‘special occasions’: The Illinois Primary. The Democratic National Convention. Election Day. 

And now, today. 

Puffing out another series of smoke rings Toby watches as, like a lens focusing in on its subject, their aperture widens to reveal CJ casting him a heavy-lidded, sultry look.

They called him ‘The Jackal’.

Special occasions. Toby thinks there should be more of them. 

Vows to make it happen. 

Soon. 

 

*fin.*


End file.
